“Might as well be. They’re planting bugs.” The words are hard to make out because they’re slurring together and he’s mumbling. “I saw that man in the driveway this afternoon, talking to Dee. He must be a fed or something. He’s been watching me. They all have.”

“He’s not a fed; he’s my brother and an asshole. Raise your arms, please.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

I hold up his discarded shirt. “You’re cold, and it doesn’t look like you brought a towel down with you, so you should put this on.”

His teeth clack a few times before he finally lifts his arms in the air, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. It hangs off him, his collarbones poking out like hanger wire.

“He’s still probably working for the feds, though. That’s what they do. They make you think they’re just your family, and then they sell you out. Dee lived in the city for years. She has to have connections. She might not even know she has them.”

I’m struggling to understand what he’s talking about. I have to wonder if he’s been smoking the reefer in addition to whatever he’s been drinking. “Why would Dillion have connections to the feds?”

“It’s all connected. Everything is. They brainwash you and make you believe they’re good, and they’re not. Even my mom is working for them. The diner is a cover.”

Dillion mentioned being worried about her brother, and now I have to question if she’s right to be concerned. Nothing Billy says makes sense, and most of it seems to be rooted in paranoia.

Something I’m familiar with.

Thankfully not at this level, though.

“We gotta get you back up to the house, Billy.”

“Nope. No way. It’s bugged. They’re watching me. They can hear my thoughts.”

Not for much longer if he pulls another stunt like this and drowns in the freaking lake.

CHAPTER 25

OH, BROTHER

Dillion

“What do you mean he’s not in his room? Where would he go? Did one of his friends pick him up? Did you try his phone?” I’m grabbing a drink with Tawny and Allie when my mother calls me, frantic because she can’t find my brother.

“He said he was going to take a shower, but that was more than an hour ago,” my mom says, her voice wavering. “I thought maybe he was planning to see friends, but we called everyone, and no one has heard from him. I called him, but he’s not picking up. Maybe he’s hanging out with someone we haven’t thought to call.”

“I’ll be home in ten.” I throw a twenty on the table and grab my purse. “I gotta go, Billy’s missing.”

Allie tries to hand me back the money. “Did one of the guys he hangs with pick him up?”

I shake my head, both to taking the money and the friend situation. “None of the guys have seen him. He said he was going to take a shower, and now they have no idea where he is.”

“Is there anywhere you want us to look?” Tawny asks.

“Maybe the beach? Although I don’t know how he’d get there unless someone is covering for him. I can’t see him getting very far with a freaking cast. I’ll call you if I find him.”

“And we’ll call you if we hear anything from anyone.”

“Thanks.” I rush out of the bar and hop into the truck, putting it in gear before I even have my seat belt fastened. I take the roads faster than I should, terrified that something has happened to my brother. He’s been home for weeks, and other than Bernie’s, he’s only gone to the beach party and the bar. Both times he got passed-out drunk. He hasn’t been seeing friends at all, come to think of it.

My heart is in my throat the entire drive home, and when I get there, both my mom and dad have their phones to their ears. I make a beeline for Billy’s room and nearly gag when I open the door. It smells like body odor, cheese, feet, and stale beer. There’s a black garbage bag beside his bed, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s most definitely the source of the stale-beer smell.

I grab a corner of his sheet and tug, pulling it free from the mattress. Underneath are a whole bunch of nudie magazines and used tissues, which is gross, but what’s more worrisome are the books on spy theory. Billy has always been fascinated by conspiracy theories, but lately he’s been more paranoid than I remember him ever being before. I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it than just the books he’s reading.

I scan his room and finally find his phone, lying on the floor, half under his bed. I pick it up and hit the screen. He has a ridiculous number of missed calls and messages, many of them from the friends we’ve tried to call tonight.

I punch in the number one four times in a row and smile briefly at his predictability before I start scanning the most recent messages. The more I see, the more worried I become, because that paranoia that I’ve noticed is in full effect in his messages with his friends. And they’ve been reaching out while he’s been staying quiet, saying he can’t message because everyone is watching him.

A knock at the front door has me dropping the phone on the bed and rushing back out to the living room. I prepare myself for the worst-case scenario, like the sheriff coming to tell us he’s in jail or, worse, that they’ve found his body.

I throw the door open and suck in a relieved, albeit confused breath when it’s not the sheriff at the door, but Van and my brother.

Billy’s shoulders are curled forward, his head down, and his teeth chattering. It’s not particularly cold, but the nights are cooler these days, and the water temperature is dropping along with it.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried sick! Why are you both wet?” I shoot an accusatory glare at Van.

“Billy was down at the lake, going for a swim.”

“What in the world would possess you to go for a swim at night with a freaking cast on? It’s not even the waterproof kind! You could’ve drowned! Mom!” I shout over my shoulder. “Grab me some towels.” I usher my brother inside. “Jeez, you’re freezing.”

“I’m not that cold.” His teeth clack together.

“Really? Because the teeth chattering tells a different story.”

Mom appears with a single towel. “Oh!” She glances between Van and Billy. “What happened?” She rushes over and drapes the towel around Billy’s shoulders.

Van is wet from the waist down, and shoeless. “Did you go in after him?”

“Yeah.” He nods once, and another wave of goose bumps pebbles his skin.

“I’ll go get more towels.” I leave Van dripping in the middle of the kitchen and grab a stack from the linen closet.

Mom flips into hyperdrive and runs to the laundry room, gathering fresh dry clothes. It occurs to me that Van could go back to his house and change, but he graciously accepts the sweats and T-shirt and heads down the hall to the bathroom.

My parents help Billy to their bathroom, since Van is in the one my brother would typically use. I’m hopeful it’s not completely disgusting. I grab a stack of clean clothes from the top of the dryer and follow them inside.

Billy grumbles about being fine, but my dad ignores him and takes the fresh clothes. Based on the state of his cast, he’ll need to have it replaced. I leave my parents to manage him like a grumpy oversize toddler and return to the kitchen. Needing to do something with my hands, I put on the kettle and then take out the double boiler so I can make some hot chocolate. Van opens the bathroom door and steps out into the living room. The sweats are my brother’s. They’re way too long, but Van’s thighs are thicker and his waist isn’t nearly as narrow. They’re stretched tight, and so is the shirt. His hands are strategically clasped in front of him, covering his junk.